“Fine, fine. Let go.”
I give him one more twist and then shove him to the floor. The beer drops from his hand, and I catch it before it hits the floor, spilling not a drop.
“I should smash this in your face, but I'm going to toss it down the drain, along with the rest of it. You will be alcohol-free for the rest of your life.” He cursed at me from the floor. “Well, I'm so sorry you feel that way.”
I marched to the kitchen, finding every single bottle of beer, vodka, rum, any kind of alcohol, and pouring them all down the drain. The house reeked of booze and I could still hear him groaning in the living room. Cassie tried to help him up, but he tried to shove her away.
“Lay a hand on her and yours will be gone,” I sang.
He huffed, but let her help him up and into the chair again.
“What did you do that for?” Jamie said, leaning in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Because someone had to. When it comes to drunks, sometimes the best way to get through to them is by force. I've had personal experience.”
Once my mother had been so wasted, she'd chucked a bottle at me and it had hit me in the face. I'd been cooking dinner, or else I would have ducked. The bottle bounced off my back, onto the carpet and somehow didn't break. I grabbed it, knocked her on the back of the head and told her never to do it again. She just stood there, stunned, and I saw the shock on her face. She'd cried, apologized and had gotten clean for a few days. It had been a glorious four days until she'd gone out with friends to a bar and after promising me she wouldn't drink, she came home wasted with a loser under her arm.
“I can't believe you did that.”
“He deserved it. I know he's done it before and he would do it again. As long as I'm here, he won't.”
“You can't make people change, Brooke. They have to want to.”
“True, but you can give them a push. A wake-up call.” I tipped in two bottles at once, watching the murky liquid flow down the drain.
“I should be pissed, but that was kind of awesome.”
“It was pretty badass. I've always wanted to do something like that and now I can.”
“You're really beautiful.”
I knew he was exactly one-and-a-half feet behind me. I knew that his hand was reaching for me. I dropped one of the bottles and spun to face him. Without hesitating, I crushed my mouth to his, yanking him down with probably a little too much force. He tried to say 'ow' but it was lost in our kiss.
It was more of an attack than a kiss. My lips tried to devour his. It was like I was trying to swallow him whole. I wanted to bite his lips and suck his blood. I wanted to feel his hot skin against mine, right there in the kitchen.
“Brooke,” Jamie said when our lips parted for a second. His voice made me realize that his breathing was labored, and I'd probably been suffocating him. I couldn't have that.
“Sorry. I've wanted to do that ever since you pulled your truck over to the side of the road.”
His chest heaved and he couldn't stop staring at my lips. “Me, too.”
He smiled and kissed me again, only slow, soft and delicate. It was hard not to try and devour him, but I held back.
“I want you to stay,” he said.
“I want to stay.”
Nineteen
Peter
Ava gets up early the next day to prepare for their road trip. Claire grew up several hours east of Sussex in a town called Machias, and driving to the house will take nearly the whole day.
“I will run alongside the road. I will be with you the whole time.”
“I know, I know,” she says, wrapping her hair into a bun.
The day is going to be unusually hot, so she's wearing cropped pants and a t-shirt that shows off her arms. I want to lick every inch of her exposed skin.
“You're doing that thing where you stare at me and then you think about things. You know I can feel what you're thinking.”
I do sometimes forget that she gets emotions from me as much as I get them from her. I am not used to having emotions, let alone sharing them with anyone.
“Now you're looking at me like I'm a piece of earth-shattering cheesecake you want very much to devour.”
The truth is not that far from it. I want to devour her. I want to take her and taste every part of her, savoring every inch. This is not the right time.
“You should get ready,” I say so she will stop standing in front of me and making me want her.
“Yeah, okay.”
She goes to the bathroom and I shut my eyes. I am consumed by her. Sometimes it overwhelms me.
Ava
“Surprise!” Dad and I both yell as he leads her out to the car, hands over her eyes.
“Oh, wow, it's, um, the car.” She looks confused for a moment, looking back and forth from me to Dad and pretending she knows what's going on.
“Mom, it's not the car. We're going on a road trip!” I say, throwing my hands in the air.
“Really? Where are we going?”
“What would be the fun in that if you knew?” She's going to figure it out as soon as we get on the highway and start toward Machais, but at least we can keep the mystery for a little while.
“Oh come on,” she says, pouting at Dad. I glare at him. Do not give in to the pout, Dad.
“No way, Taylor. I hardly ever get to surprise you, so I'm going to make this one count.” Because it might be one of the last, he doesn't say.
Dad and I pack the car with typical road trip stuff. I made a picnic lunch, snacks, and I bring jackets and all the things we could need in an emergency. Dad double-checks that we have jumper cables, a tire jack and anything else that we might need if we have car issues. I think we are prepared for everything that could go wrong. As soon as I think that, I freak out a little. I feel like I need to knock on wood or something.
“You sure you didn't forget the kitchen sink?” Mom says as we shove her in the car among all the other crap.
“Oh no! I forgot the sink,” I say, clutching my hands together. She laughs and puts on her seatbelt.
“Where's Peter today? Why didn't you invite him to come with us?” She's really asking if I'm going to freak out and get sick like the last time he left. God, I would rather die than go through that again.
“Oh, he's busy. Family stuff. But he's never far from my mind,” I say, hoping she gets the hint. She nods, as if she understands.
“Let's get this show on the road,” Dad says. We all strap in and he turns on the radio.
“Oh!” I say, remembering. “I made a road trip mix.” I fiddle in my purse and find the clear CD case, handing it to Mom.